


New Loves

by The_Doom_Dahlia



Category: American Psycho - All Media Types
Genre: 80s, Alcohol Mentions, Crack Treated Seriously, Drug Mentions, F/F, F/M, Love at First Sight, M/M, courtney's high as always, patrick gets a crush, tim price likes 80s one hit wonders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 17:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14117781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Doom_Dahlia/pseuds/The_Doom_Dahlia
Summary: Patrick connects with someone and is forced to combat his brother for her heart.i have no regrets





	New Loves

Patrick Bateman had been witness to infinite horrors in his time. The collapse of industries, businessmen sobbing like infants as their entire lives were dissolved into nothingness due to one bad stock option, the eyes of a hundred or more men going dim as he sliced their bodies apart with his tools. He’d heard the weeping of prostitutes just before he tore their throats out, the wails as he threw men from bridges to their doom, and Evelyn’s voice when she wanted something. But he'd never witnessed something as awful, as petrifying, as absolutely _abominable_ as this.

The terror had come into view at some charity gala the company was putting on. Since Evelyn had left him (she’d talked about needing someone more ‘in-tune with his emotions’ and he’d cackled in front of her like some witch in a bad movie) he’d been forced to haul in a guest from the outside. So, after his mother had claimed she was busy, he’d asked his brother to come along. Sean was ‘fashionably late’, so Patrick had fallen into his usual routine for these things: hanging out in the corner with Tim Price and Courtney Lawrence and getting progressively more sloshed until the whole shebang was over. He’d expected tonight to go the same way.

God was he wrong.

Tim was the first one to speak, swirling his drink around a little bit as he stared at it, his suit lapel decorated with the small emerald ribbon that was supposed to represent some cause (either bipolar disorder, safe driving, or eye injury prevention, Tim had been so far up his own ass about those damn ribbons he couldn’t tell anymore). "...so what the fuck even is it?"

"Oh, I think Luis had one of those in college!" Courtney piped up, clearly too high to comprehend the sight before them. She’d taken lithium earlier, he could tell by the look in her eyes, and the pair of sangrias she’d had at the cash bar wasn’t helping. "He called it a dakimorri or something."

"I'll have you know that Suzumi isn't an _it_." Sean spat out, voice tinged with acid as he clung onto his guest. "She is a high end dakimakura, and she is my girlfriend." these words came out with pride, and Patrick felt bile rise in his throat. He had to swallow to keep from ruining his new Armani suit. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Sean cooed, smiling adoringly at the stuffed being in his arms.

The body pillow in question was adorned with a cover depicting a wide-eyed cartoon character. She had long blue hair, as blue as the ocean or the drain cleaner Patrick used so often to wash away pieces of evidence, and grey eyes that took up a good portion of her face. Her body was slim, save for an absolutely massive rack, and was covered with a grey and crimson maid’s uniform. There were stains on her face, stains no one wanted to point out for fear their ideas would be confirmed. She looked like a mess, an alcohol-fueled fantasy for some desperate soul with blue balls and a proud banner of mysogyny.

She looked _**perfect**_.

“C’mon Tim, Court. I need another drink.” Patrick said frantically, trying to hide how sweaty his palms had gotten and how much he’d begun to shake. The two looked at him curiously, but made their way to the bar with him. He ordered a scotch on the rocks, taking slow sips in a vain attempt to calm down. In the back of his mind, he heard the gala’s band playing some droning love song and his companions babbling about nothing at all. But he couldn’t focus, his vision fuzzy as he kept thinking about his feather-filled angel.

His reverie was only broken when Courtney nudged him. He looked around, noticing that Tim was gone. “Where’d Tim go?”

“He went to go talk to the band. He wants them to play Human League.” she explained, swirling a finger around in her drink and listening to the noise of the ice hitting the sides of the glass. “Patrick, could you do me a favor?” she asked, her voice suddenly dipping down into a whisper.

He groaned a little, head slipping down into his free hand. “What’s the favor, Courtney.”

“Could you give Jean the day off on Friday? I want to take her up to my family’s place in the Catskills. She said she’s always wanted to go and see them but she’s never had the time, and I want to give her something nice.” she asked, voice almost bashful as color rose in her cheeks. She held her drink with both hands now, eyes trained on Patrick as she continued babbling about everything she wanted to do with Jean while up in the mountains. 

Courtney and Jean’s love story had, according to them, begun the New Year’s after Patrick and Evelyn’s marriage. A kiss under the mistletoe had lead to far more in Jean’s small, cramped apartment in Washington Heights and they’d fallen in love from there. Patrick knew better though. As a bonding ritual before their marriage, Courtney and Luis had taken a Memorial Day weekend to go to the Big Hatchet mountains in New Mexico and do ayahuasca. Halfway through, Courtney had had a sudden revelation while talking to a cactus: she liked women, not men. Her sham of an engagement to Luis, her flings with Patrick, all of it had been attempts to cling to something ‘normal’ in an attempt to keep her status in the world and with her family. 

She’d told as much to Luis while driving back, more sober than she’d ever been before. He’d told her about the same thing, and they amicably decided to end their relationship in private. In public, the two were still very much in love, happily buzzing about town like nothing had ever changed. In private, they lived separate lives and were happy as could be. Courtney had started pursuing Jean after a few months navigating her new life, buying her flowers and listening to her drone on about all of the boring things she was so passionate about. Jean had fallen for her in turn, despite all of the many drugs she was on. She’d fallen for worse, Patrick supposed.

As he pondered this, an idea popped into his head as he looked across the dance floor. Sean was in the corner, chatting up his ‘date’. Jealousy welled up inside of Patrick’s gullet, heavy like a leaden ball, and it only made his idea solidify.

“Tell you what, Courtney.” he began, turning in his chair to face her and cutting off some rant about how she wanted to see if Jean would watch over her while she tried magic mushrooms. “I’ll give Jean the whole week off, _with pay_ , if you do me a favor in return.”

There was a sudden shine in those bright green eyes, the same eyes Patrick had dreamt sometimes of looking into as he strangled her to death, feeling her pulse slow under his hands until there was nothing left. But not now. He needed her help. “Deal. What do you need me to do?” she asked, hesitation completely missing from her voice.

He grinned. “I need you to get that damn body pillow away from my brother and to me.” he explained. “By any means necessary.”

“Oh my god, are you gonna fuck with it?” she asked, laughing a little.

He grinned, slow and sly as always. “Something like that.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” she agreed, ordering a shot of something sweet as Tim returned, complaining about the band refusing to play Human League or ‘even anything by fucking Dexy’s Midnight Runners’.

“Not even _99 Red Goddamn_ **_Balloons_**!” he yelled, indignant and slurring his words. As he argued with the bartender about buying another drink and Courtney daydreamed about her girlfriend braving the mosquito mobs and lack of cell phone access just to be with her, Patrick gazed out over the marbled dance floor and the swaths of couples at what would soon be his.

“You’ll be mine soon, I swear it.” he murmured, grinning as he was carried away for the moment by the swell of violins and the taste of bourbon on his mouth. After all, he was not a common man, this was not a common woman, and he would have what he wanted. Always did.


End file.
